


Vault of the Alchemist - Chapter 2: First Steps

by NeroKrohe (orphan_account)



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Gen, Graphic Description, Lone Survivor, Nudity, Physical Abuse, Slave Trade, claimed by the fire pit, friendly neighbourhood arms dealer, prison break - Freeform, remains of massacre, scenic route, usurping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7309603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/NeroKrohe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our four chosen heroes take their first steps in their adventures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Citizen of Fester Creek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vaughn arrives in Fester Creek at the worst time ever.

It had been three hours since Vaughn had stepped foot on the train to Fester Creek. The carriage was empty, leaving the newly-appointed Vault Hunter to pace around or stare out of the window. For a train service that was dedicated to customer service, their trains sure were filthy; a thick layer of grime covered the walls, garbage scattered on tables and overflowing from the trash cans. So, pacing around wasn't an option.

Over those three hours, the train passed through a variety of territories. First, it passed through the Lobot Marshes, where the swamp fumes were so thick that anyone would be unable to tell if a Skag was attacking until it was too late (without specific equipment, of course). Then, it passed over the crystal-clear ocean, the depths as dark as sapphires. Some marine life could be seen, but nothing that was capable of killing someone. Hopefully. Finally, the train passed through an underground tunnel in complete darkness, the only light shining from Vaughn's shield and Maliwan pistol (complimentary from the company). A UI gauntlet was strapped to his left hand, provided by Maliwan and painted in their traditional style.

After what felt like an eternity, daylight returned. The area was enclosed by great cliffs chiselled and defiled by human life, a body of water running through the neighbouring town. A small steel sign read "Welcome to FESTER CREEK!", with a cartoon bandit (apparently named Stabby) doing a thumbs-up pose. The train came to a stop at a group of roofed structures that supposedly made up the train station. The town was surrounded by great rock faces, long defiled by the elements and man in the forms of intricate carvings.

As Vaughn wandered into town, he noticed the conductor (a bulky man with as much skin as a bullymong has fur) shake his head in disgust, muttering to himself. Probably not a fan of this place, he thought.

 

_____________________________________________________________

 

To say the least, Fester Creek was...untidy at first glance. Also extremely empty.

The streets were deserted. An ECHO stand stood in dismay outside of a store, the functioning ones dating back as early as a week ago. A crate of fruit sat near the doorway of the store. To Vaughn's dismay, there was no Drakefruit. However, it was unusual (or downright lazy) that all the contents of the crate were rotting. He decided to investigate a house with it's door open.

He knocked. "Hello? Anyone there?"

No response. Vaughn pushed the door open gently, and did not expect what he saw.

The whole room was trashed. Bullet holes peppered the walls, the furniture was in a state of ruin and deep claw marks claimed the walls and floor. Against one wall was a large dried bloodstain, two small holes appearing in the tainted wall. He left, desperate to see if this was a one-off.

It didn't appear so. Faint claw marks were etched on the steel walls and concrete ground, along with many more dried bloodstains. To make matters worse, he could see multiple mounds of dirt outside of a nearby church, dirt looking freshly dug. What the fuck happened here?

A short sound came from behind the Vault Hunter. Someone was cocking their gun. "Get out, bandit" a shaky voice said. "There's nothing here to loot."

Vaughn tightened his grip on his Trenchant Torment and turned around slowly. The gun was a Torgue shotgun, shaking in the hands of a lady with bright orange hair and blood smeared all over herself.

"Ma'am, what-" The lady raised the shotgun, finger constricting the trigger. He threw up his hands in surrender. "Ma'am, I just want to know what happened."

She sighed nervously, looking around. "Everyone got massacred, that's what. Motherfucking monster showed up one night and started picking off people viciously."

Vaughn raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Monster? What, like...a Badass skag? A thresher?"

"No" she snapped, "some sort of metal monster that resembled a man but sure as hell wasn't!"

Well great. Not only was he in unfamiliar territory, he was in unfamiliar territory that may or may not have a murderous metal creature lurking behind him at that very moment.

"U-um... Say, you wouldn't happen to know of a way out of here...would you?"

She pointed at the train tunnel. "Flamma Cave is down there on the left side. You go through there, you'll end up in Geyser County."

Unsure how to progress in the conversation, he gave an awkward thumbs-up and said "Thanks."

The lady, however, walked away without as much as a "you're welcome". She moved to the church, slamming the doors behind her. The last citizen of Fester Creek was going to be the reason the town would receive a low score on property sale websites. Massacre aside.

 

____________________________________________________________

 

Halfway into the tunnel, the UI gauntlet began to vibrate as a notification popped up. Reluctantly, Vaughn accepted the call.

"Hey hey, Vault Hunter!" Finnegan was on the other end of the call, sounding as cheerful and relaxed as always. "Quick bit of advice: it doesn't matter what critics say, Mama Diane's café has the BEST low-cost cuisine! Definitely worth trying~!"

"Actually" the Vault Hunter said unenthusiastically, "I'm heading to Geyser County. Things have gone to shit at Fester Creek."

"Huh? If it's the local kids, relax! They're all weak-ass punks who sing at the cho-"

"Everyone's pretty much dead, Mr Crux. The place is a mess."

After a long silence, Fiinegan whispered in a shocked tone "What did it? Skags? Bandit clan?"

"No idea, but it sounds like it's either a rogue robot or something entirely different."

The CEO sighed. His tone had suddenly switched from charming to filled with silent rage. "Okay, just head to Geyser County and find out what you can about the Vault. If you come across a Vault Hunter working for...I don't know, Jakobs or some shit? Don't get chummy with them or anything. You either plant a bullet in their brain or I'll make sure the Children of Helios suffer by my hands." The connection died, leaving Vaughn on edge. Guess this was another reason big companies weren't always the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, Finnegan!


	2. The Soaring Dragon Flies Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaiser's business deal with a bandit clan becomes more than that.

The walk through the wintery stronghold was long and hard. None of Flynt's crew attacked him, knowing that he would supply them with weapons that he "found" and sell them for an agreeable price. During the climb, there were many times that the bone-clad barbarian would collapse on the floor, cursing at the skies above. Today, he carried with him a large bag of Hyperion and Vladof weapons over his shoulder, as well as a slag Horrorshow and Grim Glory (the latter was a consultation gift from Marcus, who was none the wiser).

Eventually, Gaiser reached the gates to the stronghold, where the mighty ship known as the Soaring Dragon was resting on the ice. The flash freeze had lasted remarkably long, areas below deck still in good condition.

"Hey Flynt!" He yelled. "I got some business for ya!"

The mounted speakers on the guard towers crackled. "What stock you got, bullygrinder?" Flynt said in his booming voice.

"Fresh shipment of Vladof assault rifles, Hyperion shotguns..." He paused. "And a business proposition!"

The gates opened slowly. "Better be a good one!"

 

____________________________________________________________________

 

Almost an hour had passed. Captain Flynt sat on his throne, looking down on the deck. The trader was real damn slow as always, taking weaponry and armour into account. He yawned, and scratched his stubbly chin underneath his spiked helmet. Bored, the captain of the Soaring Dragon lowered a cage dangling from the figurehead. The rats pleaded for mercy, one of them banging its head on the bars, as they dangled in front of the dragon's flame. With a single burst, the sound of screams and the smell of cooked flesh filled the air. Heh, that was pretty funny, he thought to himself.

Slowly, a large figure came into view. The panting and shape was so familiar: the gun salesman was here at last. "Stop...building...so many...fucking stairs..." he wheezed.

Flynt laughed. "Consider it burning the calories! I warned you to stop eating bullymong meat" He leaped down onto the deck, "before you end up as food for 'em!"

An exhausted Gaiser laughed sarcastically. "I got your guns, Captain. And I need something from you."

Flynt turned his back on him and yelled into a microphone, "LISTEN UP, BOYS! I got business to take care of, so DON'T THINK YOU'RE HAVING A BREAK!"

He turned back to Gaiser. "Step inside, my friend!", he said cheerfully.

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

Gaiser carefully laid all of the guns on the table. The dull colours of the Vladof weaponry and the bright yellow of the Hyperion shotguns clashed greatly with the dark red table that laid before the two men. The captain's quarters were decorated with grizzly ornaments, ranging from the severed heads of rival clan leaders to photographs of what seemed to be the mutilated bodies of trespassers.

"So, Gaiser!" Flynt boomed, helmet removed to show a greying man with a large burn scar over his eyes. "That's $200 for the whole set?"

"Yep. Might have pushed for 300, but you're a good customer." The bony barbarian smiled widely. "Now, about the pr-"

"Yes yes, the proposition you're keen to tell me about," he interrupted. "He moved to his chair, worn and stained with oil. "Impress me."

The Vault Hunter gulped. "Well... I need to borrow your crew. And your ship."

Flynt was silent. Definitely not a good sign.

"I have business in Redhand. This is something I cannot do alone."

A minute of silence later, the captain sighed deeply. "Listen, Bullygrinder, you're a decent man. And a HELL of a dealer." He got out of his chair and turned to the window. "But I have to decline. There can be only ONE captain if the Soaring Dragon and it sure as hell won't be you!"

During the speech, Gaiser stealthily pulled an object out of his pocket and pressed it into the helmet. "Besides, how the hell are you gonna get this thing out of the ice? I don't want a ship full of holes, you hear me?"

Flynt put on his helmet and sighed. "Alright. Take your $200 and g-"

Flynt paused, mildly shaking. Green liquid started oozing from the helmet, eating through the fabric and metal. A second later, he started screaming and writhing around on the floor in excruciating pain. Every single part of his face and head felt like it was bubbling and burning, like ravenous varkids were tearing at his flesh. He saw a slender piece of metal on the floor. A grenade pin.

"Y..You..." The corroding captain screamed, grabbing hold of Gaiser's leg. "YOU FUCKING SKAG-LICK!"

Gaiser kicked him aside, holding him down on his chest. He pulled out an axe, made from bullymong bone (like the rest of his attire), and held it inches away from his face. "Sorry, 'matey'. This is what happens to scum on my ship."

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

It was sunset on the Soaring Dragon. The crew had gathered around the fire pit, keeping warm in the harsh winter landscape. Captain Flynt had fallen silent for several hours; some believed that something bad had happened, others thought he had left unexpectedly to hunt somewhere. Without warning, the speakers boomed.

"Alright, Rippers" spoke a thick voice. Who the hell was that? "Captain Flynt has passed on. He's food for whatever ungodly abominations lie underwater. I'm Captain Gaiser, and I think it's time we let the Soaring Dragon take flight once more!"

There were murmurs of agreement amongst the crowd. One psycho was so on board that he threw himself into the fire pit, proclaiming his joy for the new captain.

One of the crew sighed. "Someone oughta put a fence 'round this thing. We've lost 12 psychos this month to the fire pit." Everyone murmured in agreement to this as well.

"So listen here. There's business to attend to in Redhand, so I need all of you to get the ice off this motherfucker!" There was light applause.

"We...have a task ahead that's full of danger! Death! Glory! TREASURE!" Everyone applauded and cheered at the mention of treasure. Their previous captain wasn't so sharing when it came to spoils of war.

"Hop to it, Rippers!"

Throughout the night, the brave crew of the Soaring Dragon freed their noble vessel from the ice with fire, steel and gunpowder. By morning, it was sailing through the chilled waters of the south and was on course for new lands.

Far off the coast of Liar's Berg, a body had washed up. The victim was dressed in yellows and oranges, the smell of corrosive chemicals clinging to the neck desperately. However...the neck was cut messily. A few meters away, a head had washed up onto the ice. The whole thing was in a state of disfigurement, bone showing through the skin. Whatever corrosive substance it was, it had eaten away at the poor bastard's face to the extent that it was unrecognizable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onwards to adventure, Captain Gaiser!


	3. Rest for Weary = 0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basil meets the locals, with devastating results.

To everyone, the sandstorm felt like it had raged on for hours. In reality, it was only 20 minutes. Despite the harsh conditions, many marauders roamed The Dust in their Buzzards and technical, hoping to pick off some poor fools for profit and entertainment.

Out near the Dahlwell Oil Fields, Basil wandered the remains of the failed operation. Though long-abandoned, the equipment seemed to be in decent condition from a brief scan. Sitting on one of the many sturdy roofs buried in the sand, it contemplated the events prior. Not only was the military robot determined to find the Vault its superiors ordered it to seek, but also reunite with three fellow soldiers. Half an hour into being able to have feelings and one emotion lingered: boredom.

To the left, sand. To the right, more sand and structures. At the front, nothing but sand. Behind, sand and the sound of a motor running, the sound getting louder and cl-

WHAM!

A thick steel net covered Basil, who let out a beep of surprise. The motor noise halted, suddenly being replaced by laughing and cheering. Great, Basil thought, bandits.

"Hey Fletch!" yelled a marauder clad in orange. "Lookie what we got here!"

A figure leapt out of the vehicle, feet making a firm sound as they landed on the sand. They belonged to a brute of a man, clad in a large brown coat covered in...what seemed to be spiderant parts? Unlike regular nomads, his arms were bare and wore large goggles modified to see in the dark and harsh conditions. Fletch kicked planted his foot on Basil's chest, eyeing the company logo.

"Hot damn, boys!" Fletch yelled, voice muffled slightly by a respirator. "It's one of those robot Dahl soldiers! How much they worth? Anyone know?"

An excited psycho leaped up and down, arm raised in the air. "OOH, OOH! I KNOW I KNOW! A FUCK TON OF CASH! SWIMMIN' IN MONEY! FART GOLD BUBBLES!"

Everyone laughed. Basil had a solar energy unit embedded on its left arm. Without a clear source of light, it would be impossible to gather enough energy to digistruct its arm cannon.

"EEEEEEEEEEXACTLY! Head back, boys! We got everyone we need for QUITE a costy sale!" The bandits lifted Basil with some difficulty and threw it into a cage. The motor once again roared into life as they drove back to their base.

" _Release me, bastards_!" Basil said in what was supposed to be an angry tone.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

They had left The Dust and moving through the Skullmesa, an arid landscape littered with plateaued cliffs and the bones of long-dead wildlife. It was fortunate that there were no megamongs (or, God forbid, Badass megamongs) alive to this day, seeing as how their giant bones could house many. A single rib alone can provide shade for 80 skags.

Eventually, the car stopped. An abandoned warehouse stood tall before them, many pipes and chimneys protruding from the walls and roof. A faded logo was on the doors. "M..io. L.b .8" it read.

With difficulty, Fletch's minions lifted the cage and brought it into the unknown area inside. The walls were made of sturdy metals, lightly rusted and covered in a vast number of chains (some normal, others weaponized). The floors were in terrible state, caked with muddy and bloody footprints. A row of cells lined the right-hand side; many were empty, but the ones that weren't were filled with people stripped of their clothes and heavily wounded; all of them were bound with rusted chains. One trip later, Basil was dumped inside of a cell and heavily bound with chains.

"So, scrapman," Fletch cooed tauntingly, "here's now it works: you be good now and after we sell ya, and there's no trouble! Take a step outta line, though?" He ripped a hooked chain from the wall. "My buddy here will have a friendly talk."

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

It was the early evening. Sloppy food had been served to the human inmates, many receiving slaps across the face and punches across all areas of the body. Basil, though, was left untouched; it was clear that everyone in the cells were victims of some sort of slave trade. Question was, how was it going to be able to escape?

"Psst" a voice whispered. To the right, a young woman bruised mercilessly and chained to the wall by the neck stared at the robot with her light blue eyes. The orange light made her dirtied silver hair a shade of peach. "You're a military robot, right?"

" _Affirmitive_." If a human had Basil's vision currently, they would be out of luck: an automatic censoring system had been installed for cases of nudity. " _Identify yourself_."

The lady grinned. "Jane Northwood, bounty hunter. Got captured on the way to Sanctuary."

Sanctuary, it thought. A home for refugees and Vault Hunters. Perhaps more information and Dahl soldiers were there?

"If you got any grenades, I have a Sticky MIRV mod. Should be able to take out a wall or six."

Basil ran a self-scan on its weapons system. Fortunately, there were 2 grenades left. However, it seemed that there was no way one could be placed inside the cell without causing harm to itself or a fellow cellmate. A plan sprang to mind. Basil rolled an inactive grenade towards Jane.

" _Hide in the food. I have an idea_."

She nodded, and hid it within the skag gruel.

 

____________________________________________________________

 

It had been barely 30 minutes and the building was ablaze. An explosion had caused a mass malfunction on the door mechanisms, resulting in many being sprung free. Freeing themselves with guns and chained weaponry, they led a revolution led by bounty hunter Jane Northwood and the Dahl Mechanical Soldier known as 845-1L. With many dead bandits lying around, the prisoners ran into the wilderness of Pandora. Eventually, it was just Jane and her robotic accomplice outside the facility.

"Not bad", she said with a big grin. "Where you thinking of going next, buddy?"

" _Sanctuary_ ", it said almost instantly. " _I need to find my comrades. And information on a Vault_."

She laughed. "A robot Vault Hunter, eh? Well that's a first for me!" She walked off onto the road and into a bone-covered canyon. "Take care!"

As its new friend left, Basil waved slightly. What a weird day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! No chapter next week due to holiday!


End file.
